PATRICK MCVAY

WRITER

My Musings

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Idea for Restaurant: "Speedy Pat's"

I may seem like the sort of person who patronizes only higher-end food establishments, but the truth is I have a close personal history with fast food. I worked in a Greek pizza shop called Fast Eddies back in my hardscrabble college days, transporting meals to hungry couch potatoes.

Delivering pizzas sounds pretty easy, but it’s not. I had to drive around in a beat up old station wagon with steaming pies distracting me from the back. Not only that, but I worked in a densely packed district and had to double-park regularly, which meant I constantly risked getting tickets. These pressures take their toll, emotionally. I’d also get summoned to the BC dorms a lot, where college football players would claim that they didn’t have to pay for their two large, meaty pizzas because I hadn’t arrived within half an hour. “That’s Dominoes,” I’d inform them. Then, they’d slam the door in my face. Since a significant part of my income was tips, I had to be diplomatic with the large, muscular fellows who were trying to cheat Fast Eddie out of a measly 18 bucks and me out of part of my textbook budget. Eventually, they’d give me what I was due, plus a dime or so.

When delivery requests dropped off, I’d work the counter and make sandwiches. Much to my consternation, I was never taught the secrets of making great pizza at Fast Eddie’s. I couldn’t blame the shop’s owners for that, because no one had taught them either. I did learn, however, how to make a steak bomb. If I recall correctly, it was a cheesesteak with the works: onions, peppers, mushrooms, hots, and probably something else. Did I win any sandwich-making awards? Unfortunately, no. Still, I would characterize my tenure at Fast Eddie’s this way: I had good days, and I had great days, and sometimes, I had really great days.

In recent years, I’ve been making my own pizzas in my own over-engineered oven, which is better than renting space in a pizza shop for the night. Given my history with sandwich-making as well as current pizza skills, I’d say I have all the tools needed to open my very own delivery restaurant right here in West Roxbury, which I intend to call Speedy Pat’s. More news on this soon, after approaching my wife about the idea. (The part that might be a little difficult for her, which I totally understand, is that we’d have to quit our jobs in order to take on this back-breaking work, as well as put our young kids to work at the grill.)  

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